


Love Spell

by valeriange



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Episode: s02e10 Sweet Dreams, Love Potion/Spell, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-25 16:16:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15644376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valeriange/pseuds/valeriange
Summary: Merlin doesn’t know how to reverse Trickler’s love spell.Gaius says casually, “If you cast a new love spell, it cancels out the old one.”





	Love Spell

Merlin is beginning to get a little desperate.

He poured over Gaius’s old spell books for hours upon hours, until the small, dark text seemed to blur together into thick black lines instead of actual words. His eyes ache, and the candle he had set up when evening arrived is flickering and nearly out of wax.

He doesn’t realize it’s morning until Gaius trudges out of his room, squinting his bleary eyes, and pauses when he sees Merlin huddled over the same countertop, surrounded by two more huge tomes.

“Tell me you didn’t stay up all night,” mutters Gaius.

Merlin just says, “I don’t understand. I can’t make sense of any of these love spells. There’s too many! And some of them have the most complicated reversals, and if I pick the wrong one with some of them, I could make it worse, or I could do something particularly bad, like turn Vivienne into a lizard.”

“I think Vivienne would make an appealing lizard,” says Gaius.

Merlin covers his forehead with his hands, which are smeared with dust from the old books he had shuffled through. “I don’t know what to do,” Merlin says. “I can’t figure out how to reverse the spell. I don’t even know what the spell is.”

“So don’t reverse it,” says Gaius, like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

Merlin gives him an utterly baffled look. “Don’t reverse it?” he repeats. “Gaius, you should see how Arthur is acting! He’s a complete buffoon – even more so than usual! I can’t stand him. He’s going to singlehandedly bring down the peace negotiations if he can’t snap out of this!”

“I understand that,” says Gaius. “But you don’t have to reverse the spell.”

Merlin throws his hands up. “Then what?” he asks.

Gaius says casually, “If you cast a new love spell, it cancels out the old one.”

Merlin thinks that sounds like a good idea for all of two seconds. It would solve the problem with Vivienne and the peace negotiations, but it would completely wreck their lives here. If the girl was unsuitable in Uther’s eyes, Arthur would be just as intolerable. And Merlin didn’t know if he could stand watching Arthur pine after someone else so ardently day after day.

Merlin swallows hard. This is his best option. This is his only option. “All right,” he says, and looks down at the love spell on the page below him. “All right.”

 

* * *

 

 

The best Merlin can do for Arthur is at least try to give him some happiness with the spell. He recalls one that would ardently increase one’s pre-existing romantic affection for someone. He thinks, after what he’s put Gwen through, that maybe sending Arthur more forcefully her way would be a good thing. If he became head-over-heels for her, more than before, she may forgive him, and they could still end up happy.

Merlin makes the potion and stirs it into Arthur’s morning drink. Arthur doesn’t notice; he’s too preoccupied staring out the window into the courtyard, as though waiting for Vivienne to appear. It makes Merlin’s stomach boil. Vivienne had done nothing to deserve someone like Arthur, who was brave and loving and passionate. Arthur deserves better than her, at least. Gwen would love him loyally and wholly.

Merlin would too, but Merlin isn’t an option.

Merlin hands Arthur his drink with his breakfast, and Arthur drinks it slowly, not touching his food. He still sits at his window.

Merlin comes to realize that he is not needed today, as Arthur would be moping until the potion took effect, and then he would be chasing after Gwen on his own. He sets Arthur’s shirt down, folded, on his bed, and leaves the room. Arthur doesn’t even seem to notice.

 

* * *

 

 

Merlin has the chance to mope in his room for approximately five minutes before Arthur’s fist is slamming on his door.

“Merlin, where did you run off to?” he snaps. “I turned around and you were gone. I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

“Everywhere?” Merlin sits up. “Arthur, I’ve been gone for ten minutes.”

“Yes, well, come on out; it’s time for you to stop being gone. We have work to do.”

Maybe Arthur is planning on making Merlin do things for Gwen in his name. Deliver her flowers, write her a note and sign it as Arthur. Merlin’s heart aches at the thought. He knows Gwen is good for Arthur, probably in ways Merlin could never hope to be, and the feeling of something akin to jealousy rises in him.

Arthur slams on the door again. “Merlin!”

Merlin rolls out of bed. “All right, all right,” he mutters. “I’m coming.”

 

* * *

 

 

The peace negotiations are as boring as ever, Merlin notes. He sits beside Arthur, who also looks positively tortured. His mouth is set in a fine line. The weak sunlight filtering into the room from the long windows sets a golden shine across his hair and makes it look soft. Merlin fights the initial urge to reach out and touch it.

But Arthur does maintain a good posture, and he remains civil with the other kings and their ambassadors and diplomats. He smiles at the right people, shakes the right hands, and says all the right things like he’s reading them from a script. Merlin can’t help but think Arthur would make an amazing king. He hopes he will still be at Arthur’s side then.

When the kings call for a break, Arthur escorts Merlin out of the room. The moment they are alone in a narrow hallway typically reserved for servants, Arthur’s shoulders begin to sag and a furrow appears on his brow. In the weak light of the grey hall, Arthur looks too old and too tired; there are bruise-like colors under his eyes. His lips seem even more red than usual, as though he had been biting at them during the meeting.

“Arthur…” Merlin says slowly.

Arthur just shakes his head. “I’m fine.” He makes an impatient gesture at the door they came through. “Those kings,” he says harshly, “are arrogant bastards. I can’t wait for these negotiations to be over.”

Merlin says nothing.

“Honestly, I think my father is making me sit in solely as punishment.” Arthur begins to walk down the hall, Merlin in step beside him.

“I think he’s getting you ready,” Merlin says. Quietly, he adds, “You’ll make a wonderful king, Arthur.”

Arthur’s step seems to falter for a moment, and he swallows, and then he says, “As long as Alined keeps to his kingdom in the future, and far, far from my hall, I’ll be fine.”

 

* * *

 

 

Merlin doesn’t get the chance to retreat back to his room and sulk further, because after he drops off Arthur’s dinner, Arthur says, “Why don’t you stay for a bit, Merlin?”

Merlin’s heart sinks once again, because now he’s sure they’re about to have the talk where Arthur asks him to court Gwen on his behalf. Arthur was never good about emotions. Merlin turns away from the door slowly and sees Arthur sitting on his bed, leaning against his red pillows, picking at a piece of bread. He’s dressed in only loose pants and a sinfully loose white shirt that reveals a good portion of his chest. He looks languid, like a stretched-out lion, and Merlin feels helplessly trapped in the room.

“Take a seat, Merlin,” Arthur says, gesturing to the spot on the bed beside him.

Merlin wants the floor to fall open and swallow him up now. He wants the door to burst down and a surprise wizard to come in declaring he wants Arthur dead. Anything so he can have an excuse not to sit close to Arthur on Arthur’s bed while Arthur looks like that.

He does as Arthur says, though.

Arthur picks up the bowl of soup, and says, “Help yourself to the food, Merlin. I can’t possibly eat half a feast on my own.”

Merlin doesn’t hesitate to grab part of Arthur’s meal. If Arthur was going to torture him like this, the least he should get out of it was a meal fit for a prince.

“Does Vivienne seem… odd to you?” Arthur asks him.

There it is. Merlin says, “Honestly, I haven’t noticed her that much. Why do you ask?”

Arthur has a troubled expression. Merlin wishes he could use magic and just make it vanish. “I know I was quite in love with her yesterday,” says Arthur, “even though she’s… absolutely horrible, to tell you the truth. And now, today, I don’t feel anything but annoyance again.”

“It wouldn’t be your first passing fancy,” says Merlin.

“Do you think she’s a witch?” Arthur asks.

Merlin chokes on his food. “What? Vivienne? No, of course not. She’s far too daft.”

“That’s what I suspected,” Arthur murmurs. “I can’t figure out what came over me.”

“Well,” says Merlin, “we all lose our heads once in a while.”

Arthur gives him a look that Merlin can’t figure out, so he simply looks back with an open expression. Arthur says, “I suppose we do.” He leans his head back against the pillows. “Today has been exhausting.”

“You should get some rest,” Merlin says, and he begins to throw his leg over the side of the bed to make his escape.

Arthur sits up. “Where are you going?” he asks, and Merlin pauses.

“You want me to stay?”

“I need some decent company after today,” Arthur says.

So Merlin stays, because the prince is asking him to remain with him in his bed, eating his food, talking quietly as night falls, and Merlin doesn’t have the strength to say no to that.

 

* * *

 

 

Merlin isn’t sure when he falls asleep. He doesn’t recall leaving consciousness, but the next thing he knows, he is no longer laying on Arthur’s bed, still a respectable distance away, his head turned to watch Arthur’s Adam’s apple moves as he tells him a humorous anecdote about a rumor about King Alined. He doesn’t remember the words, but he recalls the rough, quiet drawl of Arthur’s voice, late into the night.

When he awakens, he’s met with the sight of one of Arthur’s walls. He blinks, wondering if he fell onto the floor, or if Arthur pushed him out of bed, but then he takes in the sensation of an unreasonably soft bed beneath him, and the warm hug of covers around him, and the soft sound of snoring beside him, and he realizes something very important.

He’s in Arthur’s room. In the morning. In Arthur’s bed. Sleeping. With Arthur. And Arthur must have tucked him in at some point after he fell asleep.

Oh, no.

Merlin moves to slide out of the bed, but one of Arthur’s arms is flung over his waist. Arthur is heavy. His arms are pure muscle. Merlin couldn’t hope to slip out of Arthur’s grip, and out of Arthur’s bed, without Arthur knowing. He curses. How is he supposed to sleep peacefully when Prince Arthur is spooning him, in Prince Arthur’s bed, like some sweet lover?

Merlin resigns himself to being patient.

He hates this. He hates feeling like he might actually belong here. Arthur might think he’s in love with Merlin, all because of that potion. Merlin knows Arthur feels strongly for him, but he didn’t expect that potion to turn platonic feelings romantic. He feels like he’s broken some horrible, unspoken rule now. He knows Arthur is acting purely based on magic, not feelings, and that breaks his heart.

Arthur wakes not too long later, rolling over and groaning, rubbing his hands across his face. He blinks down at Merlin and says, “Merlin? You’re awake?”

“Yeah,” Merlin says quietly.

“What time is it?”

After a quick glance outside, Merlin determines, “Probably about eight or so.”

Arthur almost falls off the bed in his rush. Merlin sits up. “Arthur?”

“I’m supposed to meet my father for breakfast with the kings,” Arthur says hurriedly. He doesn’t bother ducking behind anything to change, and Merlin looks away. He uses this as an opportunity to make his escape.

 

* * *

 

 

Merlin trudges back into his and Gaius’s house with a solemn expression. It is over for him, he determines. There is no possible way for him to remain purely platonic with Arthur, not when he now knows what it feels like to wake up beside him, or have his arm around his waist. This would be the end of Merlin, once and for all. Done in by Prince Arthur Pendragon himself.

Gaius sees Merlin walk in, and immediately says, “Where have you been?”

“Arthur,” Merlin says.

Gaius just shakes his head. He says, “I went ahead yesterday and made the antidote to that love potion.”

Merlin stops in his tracks. “What?”

Gaius gives him a look. “Merlin,” he says. “The whole point of casting a new love spell to cross out the other was that we would know which antidote to you. You didn’t make it, in such a rush to give it to Arthur before he embarrassed the kingdom, so I went ahead and made it myself. I mixed it with Arthur’s drink at lunch.”

Merlin swallows hard. “So Arthur’s already drank the antidote?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Arthur isn’t under any love spell? At all?”

“Not unless Trickler cast a new one yesterday evening, which I don’t suspect, considering he and I spent the day comparing notes on how to best do magic tricks.”

Merlin has never made his way to the dining hall so fast in his life.

Arthur and Uther are already making their way out when Merlin arrives, breathless. The other kings are laughing in the back, and two have already gone. Arthur gives Merlin a look, and Merlin notices Uther barely restraining from rolling his eyes.

“Can I see you?” Merlin asks. “Alone?”

He and Arthur step away from the group. Arthur pulls him down a hall, and then into a shady alcove behind two columns. Arthur starts to say, “What’s going—” and then Merlin kisses him and cuts it off.

When he pulls back, Arthur seems befuddled. “What was that for?” he asks.

“You’re not mad?” Merlin asks instead.

Arthur’s expression becomes further bemused. “No,” he says. “But I am wondering why the sudden need to kiss me came from.”

“I love you,” says Merlin.

“Obviously.”

Then he kisses him again, and thinks, at least he’s found a new way to make Arthur shut up.


End file.
